


The Treasure in His Hands

by TheGeniusCallsYou



Series: Rumbelle Showdown 2020 [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Hyperion Heights (Once Upon a Time), Round 1 entry, Rumbelle Showdown 2020 (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold as Detective Weaver, Water On the Floor, Woven Beauty, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGeniusCallsYou/pseuds/TheGeniusCallsYou
Summary: His heart was hammering in his chest so hard he feared it would break his sternum, and if the steering wheel were alive, he would have strangled it by now, and been charged for murder. He was pretty sure to be one breath away from passing out from the overwhelming panic he kept barely at bay.All because of one phone call spoke in a frantic voice.“Weaver, it’s Belle! You need to hurry! Please! I don’t - just come!”
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: Rumbelle Showdown 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858237
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	The Treasure in His Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was my Round 1 Entry for Rumbelle Showdown 2020  
> Showdown Name: Orion  
> Prompt: Water on the Floor  
> Enjoy :)

If the patrols were more frequent today, he would have gotten speed tickets worth more than his monthly salary for sure. If not, the speed cameras surely caught his car speeding away more than once. Weaver didn’t care about any of this, neither did Rogers who currently tried to hold on for dear life, keeping his mouth thankfully shut. Probably more out of the fear of vomiting than worsening his partner’s already short temper, but Weaver didn’t give a crap about the reason. He would have gone to jail a thousand times over if it meant getting to his destination any faster.

His heart was hammering in his chest so hard he feared it would break his sternum, and if the steering wheel were alive, he would have strangled it by now, and been charged for murder. He was pretty sure, to be one breath away from passing out from the overwhelming panic he kept barely at bay.

All because of one phone call spoke in a frantic voice.

_“Weaver, it’s Belle! You need to hurry! Please! I don’t - just come!”_

He didn’t remember running to his car, phone forgotten, with Rogers hard on his heels, barely hearing Tilly yelling they were at her place.

_What the fuck was Belle doing down there?!_

“Weaver if you won’t slow down, mate, we’ll crush! there’s ice on the road!”

“Shut up, Rogers,” he gritted through clenched teeth while slamming on the brakes to take a sharp turn right, making the younger man grunt in discomfort when his shoulder hit the door.

Weaver was pretty sure that adrenaline pumping through his veins was the only thing preventing him from falling face down into the snow after finally killing the engine and leaping from his seat, not bothering to close the door. He all but burst in through the entrance, gun drawn, not eternally sure what to expect.

He was ready to face a criminal holding his pregnant wife on the gunpoint. What he got was a sweaty Belle lying on the ground, groaning, her small hands twisted in the crumpled blankets with Tilly hovering over her looking ready to bolt.

Weaver looked dumbfounded at the scene, his mind coming to a halt. The gun now hung limply in his hand, forgotten. His mouth opened and closed time and time again as he tried to come up with anything remotely clever to say.

“Why there is water on the floor?”

Two faces whipped in his direction - one looking ready to murder him on the spot the other as if thinking he had hung moon and stars. The former was his wife.

Clearly, it hadn’t been the right thing to say.

“Why the hell do you think?!” She panted while glaring daggers at him.

“Oh, thank God!” Tilly jumped to her feet at the same time, looking ready to hug him, but stopping at Belle’s painful cry.

Weaver was at his wife’s side in an instant taking her hand in his, his heart in his throat, still not able to fully comprehend the whole situation.

"Sweetheart, shouldn’t you be at the hospital?“

Belle shot him a look so nasty that he immediately knew it had been precisely the wrong thing to say. Again.

"Tell that to your daughter! She’s even worse than you, and she’s not even born yet!”

“Well, she’s your daughter, too,” he shot back defensively.

She squeezed his hand so hard he couldn’t help but cringle. For someone so small, she sure had the strength when needed.

“We were on our way, but the road was closed…” Tilly was rambling looking agitated. Weaver stopped himself from cursing aloud. Most of the roads had been closed because of the New Year’s Eve celebrations for safety measures. Come to think of it, it was a miracle he and Rogers managed to arrive here at all.

“You did well, Tilly.”

“Belle’s phone died - I couldn’t…”

“Honey, it’s OK. Rob’s right, you did well.” Belle smiled at Tilly, reassuringly through her distress, and Weaver felt warmth blooming in his chest. Then Belle’s features twisted in pain, and he was slammed back to the reality of the situation.

“Weaver? Is - Bloody hell…”

Belle cried out, crushing his hand even harder, finally snapping him back into action - even if he was petrified and ready to crumble himself. The books didn’t cover what to do if your wife went into the labour on the shipping container’s floor.

It was too soon!

What if something went wrong? 

What if…?

_No._

“Rogers, call the ambulance. Then get your ass back in here. Tilly - ”

“I’ll get hot water,” she interrupted, then hesitated. “They always ask for that in the movies, right?” She looked up at him with big frightened eyes, and he swallowed hard, nodding his head.

“That would do. The towels too.”

Tilly leapt to her feet in an instant, not questioning his orders. His voice weaved a little, but she didn’t seem to notice. He was glad of that as he manoeuvred himself a little so that Belle could rest her head on his shoulder.

“I can’t do this, Rob,” she whimpered into the crock of his arm as he held her close, stroking her hair. I was heart-breaking, how small her voice had sounded.

“You can, sweetheart, and you will,” he whispered against her hair, trying for a calm he didn’t feel. “Do you know why? Because you’re the strongest, kindest and most brilliant person, I’ve ever met, a lot more than I could ever be. You’re not alone, Belle. Listen to my heartbeat and breathe.”

“It’s hammering like crazy.” She panted, but there was a hint of humour behind it.

“Well, I’m fucking terrified here, you can’t blame me,” he huffed but felt her smiling a little. “Deep breaths, Belle. In and out. I promise everything will be all right.”

“Delivered many babies, didn’t you detective?” She grunted.

“Countless. You may not know, but I was a midwife in my previous life.”

“Remind me to buy you a uniform, then.”

“I got water!” Tilly rushed back, interrupting his cheeky retort that he would gladly wear it if it meant making her relax.

“The ambulance won’t make it for at least half an hour.” Said Rogers with a sour expression.

Belle’s face twisted in pain.

“We don’t have half an hour! My daughter is coming now!”

Weaver gritted his teeth. No other choice then. He wasn’t a religious man, but he found himself praying nevertheless as he kissed Belle’s head.

“Right. Rogers get in here and hold my wife, would you? There’s no way in hell I’m letting you see anything other than her face.”

“Fine by me, mate.” Rogers took Weaver’s place supporting, Belle, biting hard on the inside of his cheek as the woman all but broke his good hand.

Weaver was surprised his hands didn’t shake as he rolled up his shirt sleeves then removed his rings and bracelet reciting the prayers of old in his mind. Tilly was trying to soothe Belle as she screamed at the sudden contraction, and he scrubbed his hands harder, quickening his moves.

His mouth was dry as desert as he kneeled between his wife’s knees. He let out a shaky breath, smiling encouragingly. She tried to smile back, but the upcoming contraction stopped her, making her cry out instead, whipping the smile from his face.

“Belle, you need to push. Come on, sweetheart. That’s it! On three now. One-Two- _Push!_ ”

The whole ordeal couldn’t take more than minutes, but it could as well be hours. Belle’s screams were tearing his soul apart. If he could take away her pain and make it his, he would do so in a heartbeat.

The moment his daughter, this small treasure, fell into his waiting hands, the whole world stopped. For a second, she made no sound, making it the worst second of his life, but then her small lungs filled with air, and she opened her mouth in a loud wail. He was dimly aware of Tilly binding the umbilical cord with a shoelace and whipping his baby’s face with a wet cloth, but all he could think of was that his little girl was alright.

Weaver was laughing and crying as his hands shook, and his heart might have burst.

“Look, Charlie, it’s your mama.”

Belle was crying too. She was sweaty and exhausted, but she couldn’t be more beautiful as in the moment he rested their daughter on her chest.

“She has your eyes,” she choked out while running her thumb over the baby’s cheek.

“Yeah, and your chin. God, I love your chin.”

He was mumbling and shaking like a mess, kissing his wife, his fingers twisted in her hair while Tilly wrapped a blanket around their little one.

“I love both of you so much,” he choked out.

Belle twisted a little and planted a soft kiss against his lips, smiling lovingly.

“I love you too, my brave midwife.”


End file.
